Cupcakes on the Doorsill
by North of the North
Summary: He'd heard the stories from the other nations about surprise visits ending in agony from the 2Ps. Canada had always assumed he was too invisible to be noticed by them. Now, he will go through far more hardships than anyone else while in the hands of the evil version of his own family. He really should have been more cautious about those cupcakes left lying on his doorstep.
1. Chapter 1-or, in other words, chpt 2

Cupcakes on the Doorsill part 2

Mathew woke up, and immediately wished that he hadn't.

Some people wake up groggy. Some even have no knowledge, or rather, take some time to remember what might have happened right before they fell asleep, or in his case, get knocked out; but, he wasn't one of those people. It didn't take him a while; not at all. Mathew woke up with the full memory of what happened before. And, on that frilly, girly pink bed he suddenly found himself on, he tensed knowing that whoever had left him that note, and he thought he might know just **who** would leave a basket of cupcakes, that meant that **those people** would likely be in this room soon, and he really had no idea what they could want with him.

But, then again, if it was who he thought it would be, it would certainly not be anything fun for him….

However, if they weren't who he suspected, after all, humans always did do rather crazy things, and maybe another nation had gotten him, then he couldn't fathom the reason he'd be taken. Besides being a country, Mathew didn't think there was anything really that special about himself. And Nations were mainly just figureheads after all, it wasn't like he could do anything should they have a specific goal in mind. What was this person, or perhaps people, after?

Mathew closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, carefully counting to ten on each inhale and exhale, hoping it would calm him down.

But closing his eyes was a big double-whammy of a mistake.

One, it only seemed to make him more aware of how fast his heart was racing. How was he supposed to keep his head if he was letting his fear get a hold on him? He had been trained extensively, he'd even had training in how to handle being tortured, but if he was right and he'd been kidnapped by Oliver…

Maybe his training wouldn't hold up.

…Maybe not even being a Nation would save him from permanent death here.

Mistake number two?

It stopped him from hearing the door quietly open and shut.

Mathew opened his eyes again, once he'd gotten his heart rate under control, and sent it rocketing up like one of his brother's precious space crafts, and screamed. It was mostly in reflex to the face he saw far too close to comfort in front of him, but it held true notes of terror within the tones.

So close he couldn't see anything besides that grinning impish face and its smattering of freckles across its small button nose, which was how he knew, even before he had focused on the brightly glimmering blue eyes, so different from the England that he knows vivid green….that his hopes had been shattered even more than he would soon become.

It was Oliver.

"Oh good, poppet, you're finally up. Are you ready to play?"

The slight pixie-like boy grinned maniacally, but his eyes held blood in his future, and so Mathew stayed silent.

Was it too much to still hope this was a nightmare?

"Look at all of these lovely toys I've gathered together for us." Oliver continued, and gestured at the bedspread.

Mathew's attention was directed to the row of knives circling the two of them in a semicircle, and blanched.

Those were the "toys" Oliver wanted to play with?

Why couldn't he have been tortured by a human if this had to have happened? As a Nation himself, and a 2P at that, Oliver would know how to draw this out as painfully as possible and wouldn't even be tricked into stopping him from dying or burying him later if he did die on him anyway. It was very unlikely that he could get out of this situation without some kind of assistance. But who would help him? Who would even know if he was gone or not? While world meetings between the Nations were encouraged by their leaders, it wasn't mandatory, and who just stopped by to talk to him? Netherlands during the Tulip Festival, Alfred, Arthur and Francis occasionally, but how long would that take for them to house call?

"And look," Oliver was still talking, pleasantly enough, as if every word and action he made wasn't rooted in some psychedelic insane asylum patients mind. "I've even gotten some stuffies to practise on first."

He stuck out his tongue and winked, giggling. "Just kidding."

A wickedly hatched knife was picked up and twirled, its blade coming down to rest on Mathew's cheek, the tip drawing a bead of blood which welled up and trailed its map down his face.

"Who needs practise when I can just experiment as I go along?"

At last, Mathew found his tongue. "You're mad…" He whispered in awe. Somehow, he hadn't ever thought he would have to deal with the insane version of his once-father figure. After all, the 2P's lived in their own world, inaccessible besides with magic. Arthur had even used stories of Oliver's exploits as a bed time scary story.

But now he was stuck in his own.

"No, not mad, my dear." Oliver paused to bring his knife up and licked along its edge, lapping up the blood that had gathered and ran down from its sharp point, and pooled in its jagged ridges along the way. Then the knife was brought back down to settle against the side of Mathew's neck.

"I just have my own idea of sanity."

And the point was drawn across, its edges catching and tearing more than cutting its way across Mathew's carotid artery.

* * *

Mathew woke up in a pool of his own blood.

And, surprisingly, still in that same room. Damn fast Nation healing powers...

Oliver was still there too, quietly humming what sounded to Mathew like "Three Blind Mice."

Suddenly, the humming stopped, and Oliver's head, which had been bent down over the bloody knife he'd been playing with, snapped up and uncannily fell straight upon Mathew's awake, and slightly alarmed, face.

"Oh good, you're up." Oliver cooed.

Mathew though, also struggled to get in the first word.

"W-why?" He paused to take a breath, wincing. Alright, maybe Nation healing powers weren't that fast. "Why am I here? Out of everyone you could have taken, why me?" Might as well get straight to the point of the matter, eh?

"Well," England's smile would have fit right at home on the Cheshire Cat's face. "I found after a number of years of spying on your world that I have become quite besotted with you. And, truly, what's the point to not taking what you want?" His expression turned dreamy. "You're so complacent. You're the kind that is strong enough that they could put up a fight, but won't because of principle. I can't begin to describe how attractive that is."

Mathew disgustedly thought that Oliver even looked aroused by what he was saying.

Oliver continued, "Do you know how soft your flesh looks?"

The knife he'd been twirling around his fingers again came down to rest on Mathew.

"While you were reviving, I explored it for myself. I." The knife jabbed down. Barely pricking Mathew. "Will." This time the knife left a small cut on Mathew thigh, sometime when he was asleep, he'd been changed out of his regular casual jeans and red button up shirt into a pair of grey shorts and white T-shirt. "Cut."

This time, it left a deep scratch down the side of his left calf. The one closest to where Oliver was now crouched over him.

"Here."

The blade swept up, and plunged into his chest. Missing his heart. But cutting a large hole in the once pristine shirt, and staining it red.

* * *

 **Hiiiiiiiiii**

 **I'm sort of back. So, the thing about this story is that three chapters are typed up and ready, yes, that's what I've been working on. But, I cannot find the first chapter, the fourth one I did, anywhere. But hey, this has been sitting long enough. Enjoy it for now. I'll post the first chapter when I find it somewhere. over. the rainbow.**

 **Anyways, please please please review. It feeds the fire of my soul. So that I can rargh and turn into a dinosaur typing machine. True story, peps.**

 **Have a great day everyone!**

 **HUGS and WUVS**

 **North**


	2. Chapter 2-technically chpt 3

**Cupcakes on the Doorsill-chpt 3**

 **Quick note-I am extremely grateful to Tyto11. They helped me whip up this chapter, endlessly editing it after every little change I made. Thanks you, sweetpea! You`re amazing!**

* * *

There is a medieval torture device that stretches the limbs of its victims; a sort of drawing and quartering that can be done with just one torturer present. The entire thing is nicely mechanized, so it doesn't rely on the strength of the torturer to tighten it, and there are no longer any breaks for the victim.

Mathew was currently stretched out atop it.

His clothes had been changed into a medical gown. In the few moments of reason Mathew had to hyperventilate and attempt to gather his thoughts as he was strapped into place, he assumed that the clothing was likely due to him having already bled on every other set of clothes the heinous 2P characters had for him, and this was their most cost-effective option at the moment. Mathew spared a quick moment to be grateful he still had some kind of covering.

The 2P named Al, who looked like his brother Alfred, had been giving him weird looks lately; like he couldn't wait to ravish him. Mathew wasn't too sure if it was blood-lust, the bigger man just wanting to inflict his own personal damage onto Mathew's frailer body, or if the look-overs he'd been given were of a sexual nature, but he didn't want to know either way. As far as he was concerned, everything and anything that could possibly happen now probably only meant more pain for him.

The next instant, the last bit of give he had in his limbs leached out with a final winding of the cords. His flexibility and the tension of the cords would only allow so much. Mathew could only hope it wouldn't hurt as much as the thumb screws had-

Matthew screamed as his left arm popped out of its joint. Then again for his right arm. He just shuddered for his right leg. By the time his last limb popped out of place, he was already unconscious and Oliver happily skipped over to turn the machine off, then went upstairs to take another batch of cupcakes out of the oven just as his pink cupcake-shaped timer went off with a sweet little 'ding'. Oliver was so happy he got it. It was so perfect for his perfect little house and his perfect little functional family.

Sometimes, he liked to fantasize on his brain breaks, while cooking or designing his next bit of fun.

This time, Oliver mused about pouring the boiling hot water in his hands that was meant for a tea on Mathew. That would increase the skinny male's pain sensitivity over Mathew's entire body, burning him. He grinning wickedly as Mathew cried out in pain in his head. He then switched to the still liquid but hot cake batter from his newest batch out of the oven to be his main instrument of torture. Because hey, sometimes you have to work with limited tools, and it is always good to visualize ahead of time on things like that so that plans can actually come to fruition.

Oliver stopped and sighed as a scream came from downstairs. Apparently, Mathew had woken up and had forgotten to control himself.

He couldn't have him screaming like that so loudly now, could he?

Oliver clicked his tongue and slammed his cupcake tray down on the counter top, extra-sweet crumbs and only partially solidified batter splattering in a rain around it as he roughly tugged off his hot gloves and tossed them down. One of them landed in the sink, making him even more mad.

"That boy. Ruining everything..."

He started down the stairs, grabbing a pair of scissors from a hook as he went.

"Will that boy still be able to scream without his tongue?"

* * *

Later, when Mathew thought back to this time. He could only remember a sequence of disjointed memories.

* * *

Oliver ripped out another fingernail. Mathew was too far gone in his hideous pain to really care much beyond making a small choking gasp.

He couldn't get in enough air to scream anymore. He couldn't get enough air in to breath. He was in too much pain to breathe properly. He was in too much pain to focus; to notice anything at all. The pain just kept on coming, more than all the tidal waves in the world added together, and all he could do was feel it, try to live through it, and nothing more. He couldn't deal with it.

Most days now he didn't even feel it for long, he was in so much pain all the time that most of the time he was already unconscious before Oliver even started on his daily, hourly, spontaneous, "fun".

* * *

Mathew feels like he's in a daze, he couldn't tell what was real anymore, not now, not with blood still dripping down his arms. Idly, he wondered if he was in shock. That would explain how he felt so...passive about getting cut up into ribbons, his skin flayed from his arms. Logically, he knew he should be scared, very scared. But he wasn't. He merely didn't care anymore. He was past that point now.

* * *

Oliver munched on yet another candy as he talked, blabbing away. Jabbering on and on about Mathew knew not what. He wasn't paying attention anymore. He was too focused on the pain coming from his hands, from the thumbs trapped mercilessly in the thumbscrews that Oliver kept on carelessly tightening again and again.

Blood gushed out suddenly, and Mathew let out a fresh scream. Oliver gave another of his sick grins before tightening the screw once more before hopping off his rocking chair and skipping up the stairs.

Calling back down, "Have fun, Mathew." And slammed the door, laughing, maniacally.

* * *

Oliver concocted some poison for Mathew to take and when he refused to eat it, poured acid on him and listened with a smile on his face as Mathew screamed in pain. It hurt. It hurt so much.

* * *

Oliver grinned, and put down his saw. "Alright. We can stop today's fun...if you can answer me this riddle: what is sweet and fun, but dangerous to try?" Oliver said, giggling.

Was it really this easy?

"Your cupcakes, of course."

Oliver giggled again, delighted, and his eyes bright with something Mathew vaguely dreaded.

"As a reward, you'll get to try some."

Treats. Poisonous sweets. He knew that he shouldn't eat them. But then, he wouldn't get much of a choice in the matter.

It was incredibly sweet. So sweet you could get diabetes from it. Mathew felt sick to his stomach. Instinctively, he knew that the poison Oliver most preferred worked slowly, but excruciatingly when it did begin its work. But, moments after having it forced down his throat, he wondered if he might just be saved from that particular fate, if his nausea had anything to say about it.

* * *

"Ohhhh~ Lookie here, Mathew." Oliver said and bounded forward, plugging something into the wall and pressing a button, a whirring sound filling the air. Mathew gulped as he watched the spinning blades. No. Please no.

Oliver giggled as he danced back and dragged his victim forward. "Annnd~ here we go..." He laughed, grabbing Mathew's arm and bringing it closer and closer to the extra sharp whirling blades inside the blender, a sadistic grin twisting his face as Mathew struggled, cried out, pleaded, and failed to break away.

* * *

"So," Alex said, already bored by what was going on, "what are we going to do with him now?"

Oliver smirked. Mathew thought it made him look sick, or maybe it was just making Mathew himself feel sick. He didn't know anymore.

"I believe we are going to be having an execution." Oliver said and pointed at Mathew. "Yours."

* * *

Tied up and left in the dark. Mathew remembers Vimy and how so many of his men on the battlefield with him were blinded...and how he was too for days on end.

* * *

Mathew has no idea how long later it was, but during one of his few moments of lucidity, he awoke to Oliver muttering worriedly.

Mathew couldn't hear himself anymore, but his throat felt raw from screaming and every breath was a gasp through his pained vocal chords. Not that the rest of him wasn't hurt too.

A frantic beeping was coming from a monitor by him, and Oliver was looking at it curiously.

Mathew felt his heart stop, and then the magic feeding his nationhood gave a slow shudder that he had never felt before.

* * *

He was later able to piece together what happened from what Mathieu and Alex told him.

* * *

That Oliver had had to give Mathew an anesthetic when he couldn't handle the pain of being cut open anymore, nor that of having acid poured into his open wounds.

A comment that was made later triggered most of the memory.

* * *

"I think he's going to need a therapist after this," Al grumbled, cleaning up the gory mess Oliver had made earlier. "Like, he's going to need help. Serious help. Mega gargantuan Godzilla serious mental, maybe even physiological help."

"Likely." Mathieu replied.

Alex paused, and looked at his twin curiously. "Don't you care that he's torturing your double?"

Mathieu shrugged flippantly. "Not really."

Al shot him a sharp look and opened his mouth to retort, but Oliver's voice could be heard calling out from the top of the stairs.

"Ohhhhhh, Mathieu? I've moved our charge upstairs and back to his room. Can you please make sure he's fed and watered? I do believe it's been at least a week since his last real meal. The poor dear must be starving."

Blood. Blood all over the walls, and blood all over Mathew's prone body. Blood was everywhere. The smell was sickening. Mathieu gagged on it briefly as he walked into the room, sighing. How was he supposed to feed the little runt if Oliver always took it too far and left him unconscious? Sheesh.

A stirring from the bed causes him to raise his eyebrows.

"And here I thought you were actually going to die and make Oliver eat his words that you couldn't be killed. You'd think your body would have learned to stop waking up by now when this is all it has to look forward to."

Mathew gave a muffled, choking sob in reply from the bed.

* * *

 **Before**

* * *

Mathew screamed himself hoarse and tasted blood in his throat hours before he could finally bring himself to stop crying out whenever a new and particularly brutal slash opened up his body.

Oliver sighed and skipped over to a machine tucked into a dusty corner of the room, a thing he rarely used.

Wheeling it over, he roughly strapped the gas mask over Mathew's face, smiling creepily as he pressed the on button and humming as the machine slowly whirred to life after being dormant and sleeping through the screams of a hundred other people before this boy...and yet never being used to relieve a person, only to administer poison. Unlike now, where for once in his life, Oliver gave a sedative not to kidnap someone, but to comfort them.

Oliver's face hazily swam before Mathew's eyes as the noxious fumes swiftly filled his lungs.

"Nighty night, and sweet dreams, dearie." Oliver sang. Then lightly pressed a kiss to Mathew's bloody forehead, leaving a red-rimmed hand print on Mathew's delicate, tear-stained face when he pulled his hand away after subconsciously cupping the sweet curves gently.

Oliver balled the hand into a fist after noticing, then swiftly brought it down on an already bruised and stapled together scar on Mathew's stomach, splattering the floor with yet more droplets of blood. The air filled with another pain-strangled groan from Mathew.

Love is not always kind. Nor is it always gentle. Especially when you're dealing with the particularly deranged 2P's. And, in particular, Oliver.

* * *

 **In case you didn't get that, after Oliver dislocates Mathew's arms and legs, he cuts out his tongue saying that his screams were annoying him.**

* * *

 **Hello! Bonjour!**

 **Look at me updating so fast (#not really, it's been a few days, but still)**

 **Did you like this? Would you like to see more?**

 **I am continuing my search for that first chapter I typed up ages ago. I SHALL FIND IT, IF IT`S THE LAST THING I DO. (Peter Pan reference. Kudoos to those of you that get that ;)**

 **Please please please review! It makes me update super duper fast like this! Which is great.**

 **Also, I have a poll up on my profile if any of you want to check that out :D**

 **Have a great day! You guys are the best!**


	3. 4-wherein Al has a change of heart

Cupcakes on the Doorsill-Chapter 4

* * *

 **Sorry, yes there is still a bit of blood and gore in this chapter, but hey, what do you expect with the 2P's around?**

* * *

Al had a silver ball bearing tongue stud and plain piercings around his eyebrows that Matthew hadn't seen before, he noticed as he clung to the darker-haired daredevil not-quite twin of his brother, Alfred. Al had grabbed him about half an hour earlier, pried him from the chair where his blood had encrusted him to the surface, and in the process ripping open a few of the cuts that had refused to close as fast as normal. Mathew hardly even noticed this with any alarm anymore, and Al was still a lot gentler than he would normally be.

Or at least, Al had tried to be, as he noted with mixed disdain and pride in himself later. He was beginning to think about Mathew a lot, and particularly of helping him escape from Oliver, and his being gentle when he never was hinted something to him that he truly didn't want to pursue any further. He didn't want to finish the uncompleted thought, he didn't think he'd like it. But he did know that subconsciously at least, he was starting to really like Mathe-

Goddamn it.

Presently, they were on his motorcycle.

Mathew may have imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard Al mutter that he wanted to calm him down and make him feel better, and to be quiet so Oliver didn't hear them leave the house… but then again he was even more sure that he'd blacked out at some point along the way, so that may have just been a happy little dream. And maybe the seemingly gentle nature and concern Mathew could see peeking out of the hulking figure directing the vehicle was just his imagination too. Maybe he was just seeing the Beauty where there was only a Beast, and he should really know by now just to stop trying to think at all and instead concentrate only on gathering his strength because this reprieve likely wouldn't last.

But the last half hour had left him with far less wounds than even five minutes with Oliver would have, so Mathew was grateful for the situation no matter its motives.

It was a sweet respite from the goddamned place they'd left behind.

Only for the tables to turn and Al to shove him into a warehouse with an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry, man." Al shrugged. "But Olly wants to test ya."

He nodded over to a group of people bound up and tied at the far end of the room that Mathew hadn't noticed until then.

"See them there? Ya have to kill them."

At that, Mathew's head whipped back to stare at his brother's doppelganger incredulously. "Why? What did they ever do? Aren't I just your toy? Why do I have to k-kill them?"

Al's bat found it's way to his hand automatically, and he started tapping it, warming himself up, careful of the tetanus laden blood-stained nails riddling its head.

"Do you really need a reason besides I told you to?" Al finally asked after a few beats of stare down, but Mathew wasn't looking away or being submissive. No, he was glaring at Alfred.

Oh, this wouldn't do. Not at all.

Alfred picked up the phone on its fifth ring. The ID said it was Oliver, and hey, Al was strong enough he could afford to deal with a bit of the petite man's temper in exchange for thoroughly annoying the sadist.

Oliver went straight to the point. "Did you have any trouble with our little charge?"

Al grinned. "Sweet little Mathew? Naw. As soon as he what I was going to do to them with my bat, he was only too happy to do the deed himself, or rather deeds, considering how many I had him kill, ha ha. It was a breeze, and super hot to see him in action. We always did suspect the Nations of their world could possibly be as strong or stronger than us, and we're just squeamish weaklings when it comes to killing, but damn. Who knew even in their world the peaceful Canada could be that strong. He made it look effortless."

Oliver hummed, then sweetly spoke into the phone, "That's why our house is be-spelled to reduce the strength of all but our family in the house. It would be a shame for my plaything to be our downfall due to short-sighted stupidity."

Al nodded, a bad habit while talking on the phone, and glanced at the pale and silent Mathew. "'Kay, well, I'll be back to the house in a few hours. Need to get rid of the bodies. See ya."

Al snapped the phone shut, jammed it in his back right pocket and stalked toward Mathew, snatching his nail-studded bat off the ground as he passed it by.

From the look Mathew gave him as he came nearer, Mathew had become more aware of his surroundings. Particularly his bat, judging by the cautious looks thrown at it. Al was confident that he wouldn't have any problem getting him to help with the bodies, and hey, if they had time later, maybe they could sneak off together and maybe he could convince Mathew to kiss- NO

'Kay, fine. Al sighed, and Mathew flinched. Fuck. He hadn't even touched the smaller man. Why couldn't Oliver have sent Mathieu out to try and acclimatize the innocent looking blond to their family? Honestly though, Al wasn't sure it would work. Yeah, psychology could do some weird and to put it bluntly "psycho" things, but Oliver had just spent the past three weeks torturing the guy on a daily, almost hourly basis. What was with the sudden shift in Oliver's attention, wanting to change his treatment of Mathew from torturer to "loving," by their family's standards, family member?

Fuck, but the gentler version of Canada was confusing him. In a different way but almost as much as the dramatic shift in his "Dad's" thoughts.

Al growled, yanking Mathew up by the wrist and throwing him over to the motorcycle. Let him wait over there while Al worked. Hopefully it would help him clear his mind. If not, he could carry the six people easily enough by himself.

During the motorbike ride back to the house after dropping off the bodies in his usual location far out of town, Alex tried to steal a kiss.

However, his sunglasses had pressed against Mathew's face and alerted him, foiling his attempt.

"Oh c'mon, sugar. I just want a little kiss."

"No." Mathew replied, keeping his face far away from Alex's questing hands. He still had standards, and some morals. "Please, just keep your hands on the handles and get us back safely."

Alex pouted, but complied. He could always find another chance later when Mathew was less willing to fight. It was just a matter of time really. Everyone caves if you're persistent enough, or at least that's what he'd found with his and his family's reputation around to help him in his land of questionable morals.

He doubted he'd have to change his tactics just because Mathew came from a different mindset than himself, after all, he wasn't going to change himself just for a pretty little violet-eyed blond.

* * *

Al mentally scolded himself and concentrated only on his task as he bent over the figure he'd had to strap down on their basement's operating table nearly as soon as he'd brought Mathew inside.

He should have known he'd kept Mathew out for too long. Apparently, Oliver wasn't quite as dead-set on his "no more torturing Mathew and instead lather him in kindness to turn him into one of us" policy as Al had thought he was.

He should have taken advantage of his situation and taken he kiss he wanted before they got back.

Alex carved another pattern into Matthew's flash.

In the background of his thoughts, he could still hear the biggest psycho of their house...

"That's it, dearie," Oliver kept encouraging him.

"Now doesn't that look pretty?" He remarked. "A cute little star...right around your belly button! Now everyone can tell that Alex wants to keep you, too. Maybe I should bring Francois down here. He could always leave a few cigarette burns to leave his mark too. What to do for Mathieu though?"

Oliver giggled suddenly, then patted Matthew's cheek, leaving red fingerprints behind. Abruptly changing his speculative change of thought to a far different tone, he grinned. "Good boy, you didn't even make a sound! Such a good boy. Hmmm, I think we can take out his gag now, Alex."

Alex didn't look up from cleaning the blood off his knives.

"Do it yourself." He grumbled sullenly.

He couldn't look at how scared Mathew looked right then, he couldn't. It was selfish of him, and that was the first time he'd ever called himself selfish, but knowing that he could stop this at anytime, stop being the bystander, and yet wasn't…this was hurting him on the inside almost as much as Mathew probably hurt on the outside.

"Oh, pooh," Oliver exclaimed and walked away from the table. "I guess you're just going to have to be left like that, Mathew."

Mathew whimpered desperately.

'Please don't leave me like this. I can't breathe. Please I can't… If there's one thing I can't do, it's survive this…'

Thoughts continued to race through his head, making his breathing race faster as he struggled to get free and only exhausted himself more in the effort.

The suffocation was just making him hyperventilate more.

They didn't look back as the two went up the stairs, Alex trodding heavily, stomping away from the blond he really wished he'd helped but he couldn't exactly go back to now that he'd said no and he hadn't expected Oliver to leave him struggling to breathe when Oliver had found out that was the fastest way to get Mathew insane back when Oliver had tried gassing Mathew out, what with Oliver's new strategy of trying to integrate Mathew into the family and all…

And Oliver? Oliver was pretty much floating up the stairs, nearly skipping with delight.

Al really hated the sight of him and his cheery possibly fake madness that had never affected him like this before. But then again, Oliver had always just done what everyone in their family, in their world, did and targeted random people and never gave a fuck about them. But now Al had started to care for Mathew, and this had grown to a whole new level, and Al wasn't too sure how he could keep up with it or even if he would and if he would instead try to break the cycle, and save Mathew from here, from this psycho place that Al truly didn't understand with the same clarity as before now that he had someone he wanted to protect but was also so conflicted about it.

Mathew, however, felt no delight. He wasn't too sure if he ever would be able to again. But, really, who could?

* * *

 **Hiiiiiiiiiiii**

 **Anyone seen the new Beauty and the Beast live action film yet?**

 **Also, I have a poll up on my profile. I'd like it if you could check it out, because the number of stories I'm writing down is just not feasible to type up all of them, and while typing up what I like normally motivates me enough to get quite a bit of typing done, maybe a bit of focusing on shipping pairings that suit my writing style is advisable. Because really, while I make up these stories largely because it amuses me, I am also hoping it amuses everyone that is kind enough to read it. So...there**

 **Still haven't found chapter one yet, sowry guys and gals and those elsewhere on the spectrum asfhkljgklgktlrwehedw**

 **On the other hand, look at me updating so fast. Where did North go and who is this uploading all this sturf? -Sorry, can't answer that. Classified information. Jk. Still me, sort of.**

 **I should really just name Tyto11 my Beta. Cux guess who edited up and helped me with this chappy? Yeah, that's who.**

 **Thanks you so much Tyto11 for all your help!**

 **HUGS and WUVS peoples, and please please please review! It lets me know what's going good and what people want to see updated, keeps it in the back of my mind, you know?**

 **North**


	4. 2P FACE family plus one?

**Cupcakes on the Doorsill 01 Jan 17 4th chpt**

* * *

"Now, dear, sit down and we can have supper. Do so quickly and you won't make me angry. We wouldn't want that after all, hmm?"

"Are you going to poison me again?" Mathew's voice was soft but strong, still. Still?

'After all this?' Alex wondered to himself. 'How?'

Oliver grinned. Shark like. "What could you do if I said yes? Really." He laughed, shaking his head, then stilled and gestured again with his knife for Mathew to sit, all the while watching him intently.

In just a few seconds, Mathew thought it over and while still uncertain about what was happening here now, the guy that looked like Alfred still had his knife pointed at him…so he sat down.

At urging from Oliver, he picked up his fork, and took a bite.

Somehow, he knew it had in fact been poisoned. There was just that TASTE to it.

His visions became blurry and he felt himself fall off the chair distantly.

What was the purpose of this? Just to humiliate him? Who knows?

The family ate on above him, but while Mathew couldn't move, he could still blink and he could see Alex, his brother's look alike and the frown he gave. Like he was concerned for him.

If he could, Mathew would have laughed.

If he had had the chance to try it, would the cupcakes left on his doorstep also have been poisoned?

This made no sense to him. Why drag him upstairs just to poison him and leave him on the floor?

Presently, Mathew felt the effects wearing off.

What was happening now?

Oliver looked down at him when he saw the twitch he gave.

"From now on, you will be eating with us. We're your family now, and everyone in this family eats small doses of poison, just so you know. It keeps us strong. Eventually, you'll stop feeling the effects as your immunity to all the kinds I use as spices builds up."

He smiled, then his tone became blistering.

"Well pick him up Alex! He should be sitting in that chair!"

And that was how Alex knew that, apparently, Mathew was now to be one of the family…and maybe the torturing of him would stop. Maybe.

Good, because it had been making him feel sick to hear it, or even just know it was going on recently, and that was strange. He'd never felt pity for anyone except for his brother getting hurt before. Was he getting weak?

Thankfully, his thoughts were interrupted when Francois spoke.

"The taste is quite delicious, dear."

"Why thank you. I cooked it myself with homemade ingredients. All of it came from my garden. Specifically from the portions where I'd dug a few holes during that incident a few months ago, if you know what I'm saying." Oliver paused dramatically, then winked.

Despite the expression of "someone turning green," Alex had never seen someone do so, but he'd have guessed that if it was possible, then Mathew would have done so…right before he saw him keel over in his seat, the bit of strength he'd gained from his fast Nation healing from the poison seeming to dwindle as he vomited onto the floor between them.

Alex found he had to hold back the urge to sooth Mathew, hold back his pizie cut styled hair, and rub his back telling him everything will be okay because no, that's not what they did in this house dammit!

Mathew would just have to deal with this as best as he could on his own. Besides, it would only be worse for him if anyone did help him at all.

Instead, Alex roughly moved Mathew to sit back up, forcing him again when he went to slump back over with another horrified look given to his dinner plate.

"Now, now, Alex. There's no need to be rude to our newest family member. No need to be quite so rough." Oliver said wagging his finger around scoldingly.

Matheiu, across the table just groaned, knowing what would happen if the newest mess wasn't addressed swiftly. "Ugh, fine, I'll clean that shit up after supper."

Oliver didn't even flinch.

"Bad little boys will clean up after themselves. Now, why is no one eating?" His eyes flashed. "Eat!" He commanded, and so they all did. Francois butting out his cigarette on the table and flicking the ashes towards Mathew, who stared down at his plate, morose and pushing food around only to avoid anything else happening to him.

Mathew wasn't touched that day. He was given a new room, upstairs, with clean sheets and a new outfit.

But, there was a window there, and with a bit of lock picking with some hair things he found on the vanity, Mathew saw his chance.

* * *

The next day's supper had a slightly different tone when he was found and dragged back.

Too bad Oliver had gone in to check on him not even a half hour after he'd left, or he might have been able to escape on his own.

* * *

Mathieu got the "honour" of fetching Mathew. He tried to be gentle while not making it obvious while hauling Mathew up the stairs and plopping him down onto one of the dining room chairs.

Where Alex was quick to tie him down. Not so that he won't escape, Oliver made sure he couldn't use his legs today for just that reason. No, it was so that he wouldn't fall over and make Oliver angry and hurt him more. And to keep up appearances. Oliver wasn't very happy with him right now after all, and tying Mathew down would maybe pacify him a bit.

Alex sighed as he stepped back and ran a trembling hand, that he quickly stilled and vowed to control better, through his hair. This business with Mathew was sick, even enough for him who had killed so many to see so. But, what could he do? It's not like he could go against Oliver, his father-figure, and protest his treatment of the boy. Really, it was just too sad that Mathew couldn't die. At this point, Alex and especially Mathieu would have been very happy to kill him off so that he wouldn't have to live through this anymore.

Alex started. Was he getting soft? Would he rather kill the boy than let him suffer? He grimaced and sat down himself as Oliver bustled into the room.

Naw, he was just sick of how the boy's screams kept ruining his beauty sleep. That was all...

Alex glanced out the side of his eyes. Mathew was slumped over, possibly unconscious. Blood pooling out the side of his mouth and dripping down that slender neck of his that Alex so wanted to kiss-no, to butt his cigarette against so that he could see a beautiful little burn mark-hickey-take shape on it. That was better, more in line with what he'd done and everyone in this family had done before. Though honestly, he didn't actually like to smoke, that was more Francois' thing but still...

Alex decided then that he wouldn't look at Mathew for the rest of Oliver's little "family dinner" farce after that. This was all too weird for him. Or safe for the peace of mind he'd built up over the years. He couldn't let some little boy with a pretty face get him hurt. Even if that person showed surprising inner strength. There could be no weaknesses in a family like his.

* * *

 **Hiiiiiiiiiiii~**

 **What do you guys think of a set schedule? Honestly, I'll be busy again with university coming up, however I have finished some projects from last year and while a few new ones have been started, I'd like to finish at least typing up what I have right now...aka, the finished stories on my bio plus the ones I'm not done but have started and need to tie up and figure out the endings so I can type them up and stuff.**

 **I work 3 part-time jobs with two running on the weekends, but how about I try and do 1 upload of something, and aim for it to be every week on Saturday? Or every two weeks if not possible in a given week rather than the low I dropped to last year at this time of just one update to something a month :(**

 **Anyways~**

 **HUGS and WUVS cuties**

 **Review! Tell me!**

 **North of the North**


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